


Now Match your Heart to this Beat

by Insanefangirl



Series: Mental Health with Team Free Will [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester Has Mental Health Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Mentioned suicide, Sam Winchester Has Mental Health Issues, Season 9, brothers fighting, i tried to make it not too anti-Sam, self harming Dean Winchester, they make up, this isn’t very graphic, trigger warning, warning for self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:49:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27501844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insanefangirl/pseuds/Insanefangirl
Summary: Sam knows his brother like the back of his hand. He knows Dean is struggling but in the icy tundra of their fight Dean doesn’t want to let his brother in.Or Dean’s self harming and Sam knows and tries to get him to talk.Trigger warning for self harm
Relationships: sam winchester and dean winchester
Series: Mental Health with Team Free Will [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1889341
Comments: 1
Kudos: 59





	1. Keep Your Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> So this kinda ties with my other fic, A Problem Shared is a Problem halved. You don’t have to read it. 
> 
> Any way enjoy and please get help if you need it

Sam knew all the signs. He and his brother practically lived in each other’s pockets. He knew what to look for. 

It was in the way Dean stayed in his room more, destroying his eardrums with too loud music. It was in the way he took more risks on hunts and drank too much afterwards. It was in the way his smiles seemed to crack at the seams and his laugh chocked in his throat. 

They had a system. When Dean felt the urge he placed some or all of his razor blades in Sam’s duffle or room. It was how Dean let Sam know he was struggling. It was there system and it had worked for years. 

Sam knew it. He knew what his brother was struggling with. So he waited. 

And waited. 

And waited. 

Finally the worry outran the anger for a moment. Sam approached his brother researching at one of the tables in the library. A glass of whiskey sat next to him even though it was only noon. 

“Dean,” green eyes snapped to his own, “where are your razors?” 

Sam watched those green eyes ice over at record speed. Dean’s walls slamming into place against him. His brother’s back straighten and his shoulders drew back. 

“Get your own, Sam. I just did a supply run.” Dean stood, downing his glass of whiskey. 

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.” Red hot annoyance washed over Sam like a flash flood. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dean gave a shrug of nonchalance that Sam could see right through. 

“Damnit, Dean.” Sam huffed. “If you want to be a drama queen about it fine. I’m just trying to make sure you don’t do anything stupid.” 

“You don’t get to do that anymore.” Dean hissed, facing him. “You said we’re partners, coworkers. Coworkers don’t get chick-flick moments where they talk about their feelings and braid each other’s hair. You lost that so stop trying. I’m sure ya don’t wanna pull a muscle.” 

Sam watched Dean walk out of the library in the direction of his room. He could practically hear the steam coming out of his own ears.

He needed a run. 

Sam pulled on a pair of joggers and a long sleeve before heading off on the trails behind the bunker. 

Fine. If Dean wanted to keep his problems to himself, fine. Sam had other things to worry about anyway. He wasn’t going to push since Dean clearly didn’t want him to. His days of being a nosy little brother were over. 

When those thoughts ran out, which was very soon, Sam pulled out his phone. 

He thumbed down to the correct number and hit dial. He listened to the phone ring against the sounds of birds and his own panting. 

“Hello?” A gruff voice answered. 

“Cas, have you talked to Dean recently?” Sam asked. He tried not to run his fingers through his hair in nervous habit. 

“Yes.” The angel answered shortly. 

“Um,” maybe this hadn’t been a good idea, “about what?”

“What Dean and I discus is not your concern, Sam.” Okay, fair point. 

“Just,” Sam bit at a fingernail, “tell me he’s okay.” 

A sigh came from the other end. Cas didn’t answer for a long time. Sam was afraid he wouldn’t at all. 

“He’s fine. In his own way, for now.” Cas finally provided. 

That was all Sam needed. A breath he didn’t know he had been holding in raced from his lungs. 

“Thanks, Cas.”

“Sam, I know you’re angry and you have every right to be.” Sam forced the anger to stay down. The feeling of wrongness in his own body flaring. “Just, know Dean isn’t taking this well. I’m sure you can see that, but...” Cas trailed off, seemingly unsure what to say. 

“I know, Cas.” Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know if I’ll get over it.” 

“Okay.” Was all Cas said before he hung up the phone. 

Sam ran. He ran until his body felt like it was his own again. He ran until he thought Dean would be alright and their relationship magically fixed itself. 

When finally got back home he was panting. The only sound that greeted him was the faint base of whatever song was raging in his brother’s room. 

He heart matched it’s pulsing beat through the walls.


	2. Find that Beat and Hit Repeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fixed it. Yeah! Well, I didn’t fix it, they’re brothers again is what I mean

It was after when they finally talked. 

After Dean killed Abbadon. After Dean was killed. After Dean turned into a demon and chased Sam throughout the bunker with a hammer. 

It was only after that dumpster fire did they talk. 

“Hey, Dean?” Sam finally asked from the other side of the couch. 

“Yeah?” Dean’s eyes flickered between Sam and the screen playing Die Hard. 

“I’m glade you talked to Cas.” Sam said simply. 

A sigh seemed to tear itself from Dean’s chest. He took the remote and paused the television. Then he turned to face Sam completely. 

“Did you give him your razors?” Sam asked, years of practice was the only reason his voice was level. 

“No.” Dean shook his head. “It was bad. I uh- switched to my legs instead, so you wouldn’t notice.” 

Over the years they had gotten better at talking about this. Normally it wasn’t in so many words, but they had some catching up to do. 

“I called Cas, because I got close to going too far.” Dean picked at a loose thread on his pajama pants. “He talked me down and I ended up spending the night in the impala in the garage with him on the phone all night.” 

“Okay,” Sam swallowed. “That’s good. I’m glade he was able to help.” He smiled tightly. 

“That was ugly.” Dean said after some silence leaned against the armrest if the couch. 

“Yeah.” Sam gave a half chuckle, these last few months haven’t been good.

“Anything else you want to add to this chickflick, Sammy?” Dean hadn’t called him that in what felt like years and Sam melted under the nickname. 

“No, you can go back to your billionth time watching this movie.” Sam rolled his eyes fondly. 

“Our billionth time watching this movie.” Dean corrected and pushed play. He shoved more popcorn into his mouth. 

“Dean?” Sam asked again after a little while. Dean only hummed so he continued. “You can always come to me. I don’t care if we’ve got each other by the throat or the world is in flames, you can always come to me.” 

Dean doesn’t answer. He made a little jerky nod with his head instead. Then he fumbled around the couch for something.

“Dude, where’s my licorice?” Dean asked. 

“Why the hell would I know? I don’t eat that trash.” Sam can barely suppress his smile. 

“It’s a classic, Sammy. Licorice is a staple in the movie food category.” 

“Bullshit.” Sam tossed a pillow at his brother. 

“You owe me licorice.” Dean pretended to grumble. 

“I don’t owe you shit.” Sam pulled a bag out from under the couch and threw it across the couch. 

“Ha, I knew you were hiding them, you bitch.” Dean smiled bigger then Sam had seen in a long time. “Here.” Dean tossed him a bag from the end table filled with dehydrated banana chips. “Don’t eat too many of those or they’ll give you toxic gas, and you know it.” 

“Whatever, jerk.” Sam smiled and watched something explode on the television. 

They had their ups and downs. Dean still felt the need to hurt himself, Sam felt like his body itched from the inside. Whatever they were feeling they would get through it, together. They just had to find the beat of their song again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was just kind of a vent fic, hope you think it turned out better than I do


End file.
